UFO Unidentified Flirting Object
by fanofkdc
Summary: Grissom gives Sara a birthday surprise.
1. Chapter 1

Title: UFO - Unexplained Flirting Object

Author: fanofkdc

Summary: Grissom gives Sara a birthday surprise.

Disclaimer: I'm just going to copy and paste from now on ... do I look like Anthony Zuiker? Or Carol Mendelson (all snide comments missed out here)? There you are, then.

Rating: M, just in case. I'm hopeless at predicting what stories will contain until they've been written, unless I start writing with smut in mind. Now? I can't tell.

Author's Note: Personally, I don't think the 'Monty Python' reference would be _too_ OOC for Grissom - don't forget, he's a person who thinks that a good date would be synching 'Dark Side of the Moon' to 'The Wizard of Oz.' Not that _I'd_ complain.

Sara walked into the empty locker room at the end of shift. Another year, and all she had to show for it? CSI level three, a DUI, a breakdown, strange things just going on in cases - _that_ was all she had to show for it. Above all? A guy who was too scared to just jump in the deep end.

She hated her birthday, had done ever since she was a small child. Her parents had never really done things for such an occasion, as any time they spent discussing Sara often resulted in a trip to the emergency room. She was glad she was at school in September - if she had been a month earlier - like Grissom's birthday, ironically, she would have been smack bang in the summer vacations, and her family, like so many others in the heat of summer, were susceptible to crimes of passion in an even higher frequency than other times of the year - at least school could be a temporary escape from home. But not for long. It wasn't the day-time that scared her in her house when she was growing up. It was the night-time, or early in the morning, before her father left for work. That's when he would come to her room ...

She absently reached out a hand to open her locker, and found an envelope taped to it. Blinking in interest, she snagged the envelope, feeling card tucked inside it. Opening the flap, she found it wasn't _a_ card, but a piece of thick, cream card, imprinted with an elegant copperplate scrawl.

_Dear Sara,_

_It hasn't escaped my notice that today's your birthday. If you're feeling up to it, or you don't have any other plans, pop to my office before you head home. I'd like to run an idea by you._

_Yours, Gil._

He'd signed it with a name she never even used. The offer was sweet, even though she didn't know what it was yet. But he had something he wanted to run by her? It sounded promising, although she tried hard not to let her emotions get the better of her. He probably just wanted to see if she could help him with some paperwork, or had a case he needed a consult on. Damn him for being so oblique and vague.

Grissom smiled when he saw Sara approaching his office. His door was wide open in the hope she would read the message he'd left her and would come and see him. "Happy birthday," he commented as she sauntered through the door and, uninvited, dropped into a seat facing him. "How's your day been?"

Sara forced a sigh and shrugged. "I actually thought I might escape it this year, get through the day without anyone reminding me," she muttered.

"Oh." Wrong move? Test the waters. "How many people caught you?"

"Just you," she replied with what could _barely_ be described as a smile. "So it wasn't too bad. I just hate people making a fuss," she explained.

"If that's the case, you can just go home now, then," he said, half-teasing, half-wondering if his plan was going to backfire on him. "But fussing is bad," he agreed. "That's why I loved having my birthday in summer break - no-one at school would ever know."

"I liked my birthday being in school-time for the exact same reason." Her words puzzled Grissom. "My family was prone to violence more often than not at family occasions. Being at school, I wouldn't have to worry about incurring the wrath of my father." She smiled sadly.

Grissom swallowed. "Not a happy time, huh?" Sara nodded. "If you don't wanna do anythin', I'll understand."

"Is that why you asked me here?"

"Yeah. I thought that maybe you wanted to do something. Nothing much, I guess it's too late to go out anywhere. But I got you a little something. I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to come over to mine, watch a film, drink a beer or two. Unwind," he finished, shrugging balefully.

That he would think of her, go to all that trouble - to buy her something, to ask her over - it touched her. "Well, I guess it beats going home, sitting in, and thinking about the past in between going to the kitchen for more alcohol." She caught his expression. "Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little - but that's what I do most years."

Grissom sighed. "If you need to talk ...".

"I don't want to remember, to be honest," Sara finished before he could. "Today, for once in my life, I'd like to forget."

Not for the first time in his life, Gil was glad to have a collection of Monty Python DVDs.

"I hope you like 'Monty Python'," he said as he pushed open the door to his townhouse. "Here." He motioned for Sara to pass him her jacket, and hung it up on a coat peg next to his. For a second, the juxtaposition of both jackets struck her - it was almost as if they were a married couple coming home from work together.

"You're a fan?" she asked in disbelief. Typical geek she was, she had sat in her room all those years at college watching the films and _Flying Circus _repeats on TV.

"You like them too? Thank God for that. The only real way to unwind after a day if the amusement parks are too busy," he said, showing Sara through to living room. "Have a seat, and I'll be with you in a minute. What can I get you to drink?"

Sara though for a moment. "What do you have?"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Let's see ... beer, scotch, wine. Tea, herbal teas, coffee, water - take your pick."

"Uh, whatever you're having, please," she replied, all at once feeling as though she were intruding in this man's life. But all he did was give her a bright smile, potter off into the kitchen, and return with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"If you wait another minute, I'll get your present." She was still sitting with the same dumbfounded expression as when he left her. "What's up?"

"You didn't have to get me a present," she croaked. This was all slightly surreal for her. Just as was beauty, and being needed, and looking nice, and being pinned down - all too surreal for her.

"We get each other Christmas presents, and you got me a voucher for my birthday last month, even though I didn't deserve it," he told her, as though buying her a present was the most logical, natural thing to do. "It's not just one. There's a couple of things I saw that I thought you might like, so I got them." Again, the smile her gave her conveyed the attitude that this was an entirely normal situation for them to be in. He handed her the heavy, neatly-wrapped package and smiled in expectancy.

Sara accepted it from him, and opened carefully, almost hesitant that whatever it was that was in there might jump out and attack her. "A book on Nash," she murmured appreciatively. "You know, past 'A Beautiful Mind', didn't think there was much else to read about him." She returned her attention back to the present when Grissom cleared his throat. "And ... Richard Feynman? My God, you have such a knack for finding books," she enthused. She flashed him a bright smile as he sat down next to her.

"Like I said before, happy birthday," he said. He gave her a brief hug, surprising her, then just as quickly pulled away, reaching over for the bottle of scotch. "Would you?" he asked. "So I can get the DVD player sorted?" She nodded. "Which film do you wanna watch?"

"I'm in the mood for something absurd," she replied. _Like this situation_. "'Holy Grail'," she chose.

He cued up the film as she poured their drinks, and he settled back on the couch with her. "I take it you like your books then," he stated simply.

Sara turned her head to look at him. "They're wonderful. It was very thoughtful of you," she added. She felt an air of uneasiness settle over him. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to, I can read you like a book," she admonished gently.

She heard him take a breath. "At the risk of sounding like a teenager going to the movies with his girlfriend, you mind if I put my arm around you?"

Woah. "Uh ... sure. My I ask why?"

"It's just a nice way to sit next to a person. Plus, I figure you're still feeling a bit lonely at the moment. Just thought you might want a bit more ... comfort? Recognition that you exist?"

"Is that why you hugged me?"

"Partly. That, and I wanted to."

"Don't worry, I don't have a problem with it." She moved closer to him and felt his arm slip around her shoulder, resting into his side. He was warm and soft, and smelled good, despite having been at work all day. "I thought you didn't wear aftershave," she murmured.

"Not normally. But I was doing paperwork all day today, no point in not putting any on."

"I bet you're trying to impress me," Sara said, narrowing her eyes in mock-suspicion.

"Maybe I am. Would it be working if I were?"

"You're already doing a pretty good job."

"Thank you. Oh, I'm so stupid, can I get you anything to eat?" He leaned his head on top of hers.

"No, I'm good thanks."

Grissom pulled away and regarded her carefully. "You sure? You look a bit pale, you should keep your energy levels up."

Sara smiled and leaned back into him. "Honestly, I'm fine," she insisted. She knew he didn't believe her, but she truly wasn't hungry.

They watched the film in silence, mostly, except for the times when they found things so hilarious that they just laughed aloud, the sounds of their laughter vibrating within them, deep and trembling, vibrating through their touching bodies.

Grissom stood up and turned the TV off. "What would you like to do now? Eat?"

Sara smiled sleepily. "Still not hungry."

"Honey," came his gentle tone, "you should really eat something."

"I will do when I get home."

"When will that be? 'Cause I'm not letting you go home, not after the amount of scotch we put away. You're slim enough as it is, but that alcohol will act on you if you don't eat anything. Come on, just a bowl of cereal, some toast."

"Oh, okay, you wore me down. Is there anywhere I can drop off for a bit? I'm tired."

"Use my bed, just get in," he said absently. "I'll bring through some food, and then I'll leave you to it. I'll sleep on the couch."

Sara's eyes widened. "That couch is way too short for you."

Grissom thought for a second, something he considered that he and Sara were both doing a lot at the moment. "Well, it's your birthday," he said thoughtfully.

"And?"

Grissom sighed. "I like you," he said, his meaning not escaping her. "If you're not fed up of waiting, I'd like to ...".

"Yes?"

"Well, I'd like to do many things right now." He closed his eyes. "Romance doesn't come easily to me."

"I guessed. Look, if this is a problem, I can go."

"No!" Grissom's eyelids flew open. "Sara, I'm for life, not just for Christmas," he joked. "Us doing something tonight ... that wouldn't just be _it_. And it wouldn't mean that we wouldn't have things that we needed to discuss. But for tonight, maybe we could just forget everything that had happened in the past, just for tonight. Let me ... I wanna give you a nice time, for one of your birthdays."

Sara smiled. "This is hard for you, isn't it?" she murmured sympathetically. He nodded. "Well, it would be rude of me to say no ...".

"You're not _obligated_ to do anything," he muttered. "To be honest, I don't know if you still feel anything for me."

"Oh, I'll _always _feel something for you. I want you, Gil, there's no denying that. But I need a promise that we won't return to how things were before."

"Never," Grissom insisted sincerely. "Sara, I want you. I always have done. And you should know that I wouldn't just make love to you and then walk away."

"So it wouldn't just be sex?"

"Fuck, no. Much deeper than that. Excuse the pun," he added, grinning slightly.

"Okay, then."

"Really?"

Sara nodded, and Grissom approached her tentatively. He questioned her with her eyes, and she nodded, allowing his mouth to press gently against hers.

"I promise things won't regress," he gasped, pulling her to the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I had no intention of doing a continuation (hey, it seems that for a lot of things, I never plan on _anything_), but I read the reviews I got for chapter one. Firstly, odeepblue, you are my first official fanclub member (he!), and also a big 'hey' to some new people I've seen reviewing me - welcome to the strange world of my stories; secondly, due to some valid comments from Hayley, I felt that the story should be resolved in a proper manner, one that is more _in_-character than OOC.

All the same disclaimers and rating guidance applies.

Sara was down to her underwear, waiting for Grissom to finish disrobing. Seeing him slump on the bed in his boxers shorts, she approached him and cooed in his ear. "Everything okay?" she whispered, her tongue flicking out and touching the outer shell of his ear.

He closed his eyes, as though in a combination of extreme pain and exquisite pleasure. "Don't," he croaked, his throat dry enough for a spark to ignite a fire down there.

Sara straightened back up. "What's the problem?" She rubbed his back and risked sneaking a look at the area covered by his boxer shorts. "Is everything ... in order ... down there?"

"The hydraulics are fine," Grissom sighed. His head lifted, and those flawless indigo eyes froze her body to the spot. "This isn't right," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

Sara's eyes and speech faltered. "What do you mean? Do you want me to go?"

At her words, Grissom bolted up. That was the _last _thing he wanted. Oh, he wanted her, all right, he wanted to be deep inside her, wanted her legs sqeezing his waist. But not now. Not this soon. He had made a mistake in anticipating such an enormous, momentous step so early. This was the first day of a new life for him, and he would have already made love to her before the day was out. He wanted anticipation. He wanted to take things slowly.

"Damnit, Gil, _talk_ to me," she hissed, tears welling in her eyes, her jaw clamping with the fervour reserved usually only for tetanus.

Grissom came to his feet shakily and reached for her, holding her at arms' length. "You are so beautiful," he intoned, like some priest who has been allowed to stand before the goddess whom he worships. "So beautiful, so precious." He took a breath, his chest swelling painfully. "I don't mean that _this, per se_, is wrong. What I mean is ...". He thought for a moment. What _did_ he mean? "All the times I've gone over this in my head, all the times I imagined us to be in a relationship ... it doesn't happen like this."

"Don't be so _fucking_ oblique," Sara spat, trying to sound angry. But being pushed up against his chest, her words were subdued against his powerful muscles.

"This isn't how it's supposed to happen, darling," he informed her. He pulled away from her slightly, and led her back over to the bed, sitting her down. He took her hands in his and stared openly into her eyes.

Sara just gazed back helpless, struggling for air as she immersed herself in his azure depths. Never before had she seen such naked emotions especially not in _his _eyes - fear, love, lust, tenderness, justice - he was trying to communicate without words, but the language his eyes were feeding was untranslatable.

"I'm not supposed to take you back to my house and push you onto a bed without any explanation for what I'm doing. I'm supposed to woo you. Take you out to dinner, take you to concerts, buy you presents, walk around the Strip at night when we're not on call, holding your hand. I'm supposed to let you know how special you are to me before I have the right to take you deep and hard." He blinked, smiled somberly at her, his thumbs caressing her hands.

"Oh, _Gil_," she breathed, fighting against the salty drops that were threatening to leave tracks on her cheeks. Her russet orbs glinted and she smiled sadly. "You want to do all that for me?" He nodded, and she bit her lip. "This is better than if we made love right now," she said. "Are you serious?"

Grissom nodded. "Every day, for seven days, starting tomorrow, we are going to do something either after shift, or on the day off. I'll take you to dinner, I'll take you to the opera, I'll take you to a jazz bar, I'll buy you a present, I'll take you on some rollercoasters ... shit, I'll even take you to the body farm. In short, I'll do everything in my power to show you how special you are to me. Is that okay?" His raised an eyebrow, not in question, not in scrutiny, not as a wry comment - that lone eyebrow simply asked for understanding of what he was doing.

Sara put a hand up to his beard, and her long fingers gently stroked his jaw-line. "All my life, I've longed for a person who would do that for me. I'm more than willing for you to do that." Her smile morphed, becoming less sad. "But what about now?"

"I'm still not letting you drive home. We can just go to bed and sleep off the scotch." Seeing her sceptical look, he fought hard to convince her. "I promise, I won't do anything. I've managed to keep my hormones in check for the past decade or so, another seven days won't kill me." He stood up, helping Sara up from the bed, and pulled the duvet back, assisting her between the sheets.

"It's not _your_ hormones I'm worried about," Sara told him as he joined her, slipping an arm across her stomach. "I never have very good composure when I'm around you," she confessed, snuggling into his arms. "I'm afraid I might jump."

"I'm not."

Sara looked up to his face, her hands tracing languid patterns over the bare skin on his back. "Did you mean what you said before?"

"Which part?" he teased, receiving a swatted arm in return.

"About ...". She swallowed, somewhat discomfitted by what she would have to bring up. "About taking me deep and hard. Did you mean that? Is that what you want to do?"

He smiled tenderly and put his lips to her ear. "That, and so much more, sweetheart," he whispered. The vibrations of his words ran through Sara's body, sending shivers up and down her spine. "But I think that maybe we should go into that in two or three days' time. After all, what sort of paramour would I be if I didn't make my intentions crystal clear." He tilted her chin and kissed her softly, relishing the silk-like touch of her mouth.

Sara smiled against him. "You know what I like then," she mused, closing her eyes and resting against his body for warmth.

This chapter is fairly short, as it's more of a link between the first chapter and the other ones (no s, I hear you say) - what I mean is, I want to go more into more depth about each of the dates they have, rather than just state in the latter half of this chapter - 'they did this, they went someplace, and then at the end of the week, they came back and got jiggy with it.' I'd like to develop the story a bit more than that.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the great response so far.

"What have you got planned for today?" Sara's eyes never left the sample she was studying under the microscope.

Grissom took off his glasses and looked up from his, situated on the other side of the room. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," he admonished gently.

"Right," she snorted, lifting her gaze from the lens and catching his eye. "I'm sure that's code for 'I have no idea of what I'm going to do.' Can't men ever just admit that sometimes they simply have no idea?" She smiled teasingly.

He raised an eyebrow and straightened up from his microscope and returned the smile. "Well, I could just take you over this here table," he growled, motioning to the evidence lay-out table that sat between them, "but I wouldn't want you thinking _that's_ your present for today." Seeing her cheeks flush gave him a sense of achievement. "Look, I've got it covered, okay?"

Sara allowed herself to pout. "I'm beginning to wish we'd just gotten all this over with last night," she half-moaned.

Grissom's smile was, this time, downright evil. "Don't go saying things like that without having any sort of insight into the future." He used the fact that he was getting ready to leave the room as an excuse for approaching her in a distinctly predatory fashion. He brushed past her, allowing his hand to slip along the small of her back. "Trust me," he whispered in her ear, "this time next week, you will _not_ be complaining."

Sara turned to see him exit, and tried to quell the fire that arose in her.

Sara was sitting at home, reading a book. She was beginning to feel rather disillusioned with Grissom - was he making promises that he couldn't keep? After all, he had called quits on them last night - this could have all just been a way for him to control the situation. Then again, the look in his eyes when they had spoken earlier - unashamed, unhidden lust. Oh, who knew any more? She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of her doorbell ringing. She book-marked her page and dropped the book on to her couch, rising wearily and trudging to the door.

She had not looked through the peephole in the front door, so was surprised to open the door to what looked like a huge bouquet of flowers on legs - a new life-form perhaps? But as soon as she heard this 'new' life-form's voice, she knew who it was.

"Happy birthday plus one," came Gil's soft voice.

"Oh my God," she said breathlessly, standing deadly still in the doorway.

"Uh, not meaning to spoil the moment, but may I come in? Before my arms give way?"

Sara stood back and allowed the walking, talking bouquet to troop through the door. She closed the door behind him, turning to study his back. _Mmm, jeans_, she thought. _Nice_. "How are you?"

The human/plant turned to face her. "Are you just going to make me hold these all night?" came its sarcastic drawl. Sara bit back a smile and accepted the flowers, finding a vase for them. On closer inspection (and she did wonder why she hadn't noticed at first), she saw they were roses -

"Two dozen," Gil said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking faintly embarrassed. "I know it's not much," he continued, as Sara filled the vase with some water and arranged the roses, "but I just thought that maybe I'd start off slowly, small, y'know?"

Sara finished with the roses, and walked through to the living room, placing them on the window sill. She returned to the kitchen, where Gil was still standing, and slipped her arms around his waist. "Thank you very much," she whispered against his ear. I appreciate it very much."

Grissom turned in her hold, and his arms landed on her waist. "You're welcome. You deserve it," he told her. He bowed his head and his lips grazed her cheek. "How are you?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.

"Much better, now you're here," she told him. She relished the moment - standing here, in Grissom's arms, being shown how important she was to him. She felt a pleasant warmth radiating from somewhere within her. "How are _you_?"

"Much better now I'm here," he replied, grinning.

Sara stood back from him and placed her hands on his chest. "Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat, perhaps?"

He took hold of her hands. "I ate before I came over, but I'll have a coffee if you're making one," he said softly. He enjoyed this - holding her in his arms, kissing her - God, he could think of nothing more ... well, he could, but those images weren't for now.

"Take a seat, and I'll bring it in."

"No," came his low voice.

"Huh? Are you disobeying a direct order?"

"No-o. I'd rather stay with you in here while you make the coffee, if that's okay with you." His cheeks flushed slightly, and his eyes shone brightly.

It was Sara's turn to flush. _Either you're insecure, or needy, or ..._ she thought. "Sure," she acceded, turning her attention from him to their drinks.

Grissom leaned back against one of the kitchen units, watching her bustle around the kitchen. She was hurried but graceful, hands reaching out and taking the things she needed, sure exactly of where they should be. She wasn't much different to how she was at work, breezing about the place, always in a hurry, always rushing about in search of justice. The sight of her doing this in her own home somehwat amused Grissom, as well as slightly saddened him. _She doesn't ever stop. She keeps going, but when she crashes and burns, boy does she do it in style._

"Something wrong?" Sara inquired, upon seeing the distant look on his face. She handed him his coffee and steered him towards the easy couch in the living room, sitting him down and then following suit. They leaned into each other, shoulders touching.

"I was just thinking," Grissom replied, staring into the depths of his mug.

"Nothing unusual with that," Sara teased lightly. Then she sobered. "What about?"

He heaved a sigh. "Watching you, the way you go about things. Your intensity worries me," he sighed again.

"That tends to be a problem with a lot of people, men especially. But if you want this to go somewhere, then that's something you have to get used to."

"I'm not saying I have a problem with it," he countered. "If anything, I can _relate _to it. I know how easy it is for one's intensity to act as a turn-off. In our case, I'd say our mutual intensity was in turn a mutual turn-on. What I mean is, I worry that you'll burn out. You're constantly on the go. How do you relax?"

Sara huffed a laugh. "Same way as you - read, think about work, read some more." She took a breath. "I ...".

"What?" Concerned that he would distract her train of thought, he continued to not look at her.

"I never thanked you."

"For what?" He risked looking at her out the corner of his eye.

"For always making sure I didn't burn out. Or for _trying_ to make sure I didn't." She looked up into his eyes. "I can't tell you how much it means to me. To know you care - it means a lot."

Grissom nodded. "S'okay. You're worth it." He smiled.

Sara returned the gesture, continuing to sip her coffee. "Uh, are you doing anything up until shift?"

"No. Why?"

"Uh, do you want to sleep over? Nothing in it, just ...".

He smiled at her flustered face. "Like last night?" He watched her nod. "Of course I will."

On cue, Sara yawned. "I'm going to go and get ready, okay?"

"I'll go and get some spare clothes from my car, then."

"Just come straight in, don't bother about knocking."

She was tucked up beneath the covers when he got back from collecting a pair of pyjamas. "You look very cute," he said, perfectly serious.

"As opposed to not looking cute at any other time?" she questioned, winking.

Grissom began stripping off his shirt. "Sara, you _always_ look cute," he appeased her. "You just happen to look even more cute lying there." He pulled a white t-shirt over his head, and slipped out of his jeans, sliding into bed next to Sara. He spooned her, and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Do you have a picture of yourself wearing jeans?" Sara sleepily mumbled.

"Me? In jeans? A picture? Why?"

"You have a cute ass when you wear jeans. I like it," she confessed. She felt a throaty chuckle from Grissom vibrate through her body.

"Maybe I should just wear jeans at work," he said, running his mouth over her vest-clad shoulder.

"No way!" she protested.

"Why not? I thought you just said you liked my ass!"

"Exactly! If you wore jeans, I wouldn't be able to keep myself from jumping you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

She playfully slapped his arm and leaned back into his chest. "No," she conceded. "Oh, just go to sleep before you seriously confuse me," she protested.

"Sleep well," he murmured into her ear, before he nipped it, ever so lightly.


	4. Chapter 4

"Far be it for me to tell you what to do, but I have a suggestion." Sara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, watching Grissom shave himself in his shaving mirror.

His eyes flitted from his reflection to her lanky figure. Oh, how he loved her legs. "Really? Hmm, I don't know...," he teased.

"You know you're doing all this stuff for me?" She saw him nod. "We-ell, one thing I'd like you to do for me is open up emotionally."

He grinned slightly, razor poised in his hand. "Oh?"

She found it hard to look at him. "Yeah. I thought that maybe tonight, or another night if you've already got something planned for tonight, that we could just sit in with pizza and beer and talk. 'Cause I have some things I'd like to ask you."

"If that's something you wanna do, then that's fine. If you wanna do that tonight, that's also okay with me." His concentration appeared to be focused on removing stray hairs from his beard.

For a moment, Sara couldn't believe it - Gil Grissom, the _enigmatic_ Gil Grissom, was actually telling her that he would be perfectly willing to open up to her. "Uh, okay. I wasn't quite expecting that," she confessed. "I didn't think you'd bow so easily."

He finished tidying his facial hair, and washed the extraneous bits of white foam from his face. He patted his cheeks dry with a towel, and came to stand next to Sara. "There's got to be some parity, here," he informed her. "I can't keep expecting you to make sacrifices. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to give way, and I'd rather it would be sooner." He turned to face her, and put his arms around her waist, holding her close to him.

She could smell the soap he'd used to shave, and for some reason, it comforted her greatly. "This is why I've waited so long," she murmured, slightly wistful. Grissom cocked an eyebrow and she expounded. "I always thought you had a romantic streak in you, but that you just needed a chance to display it." She ran her fingers over his chest.

He grinned yet again. "Me? Romantic?"

"Yeah. Let's face it, any scientist that recites Shakespeare and eats a book of quotations for breakfast each day isn't _completely_ cold. By all means, you should just be a ... scientist. But you have this artistic streak, and I love it. You're very ... artful."

He bent his head towards her and kissed her lightly. "I'm glad you like it. So many women seem to find my assorted quirks infuriating. Body farms, chocolate crickets, entomology text books, poetry - plus, my work gets in the way a lot. They don't appreciate that," he added, his smile holding a hint of sadness.

"I understand," Sara reassured him, stroking his cheek. She pulled away, and finished buttoning her shirt.

Gil pouted. "You know, you'd look so much better without the shirt," he sighed.

Sara shot him a grin. "Where do you wanna meet tonight?"

His mouth contorted. "Give me an hour after shift, I'll need to get showered and changed. I'll have the pizza ordered for when you come over, but I haven't got any beer in, so would you mind picking up a six-pack, and I'll give you the money when you get there."

"Sure, sounds good." Secretly, she was glad he wanted her at his - given the nature of the discussion they would be having, she didn't want him to just ball up and run away - he wouldn't be able to do that in his own

home.

"Is Mediterranean vegetable okay for you?"

"A veggie pizza?"

"Are you no longer vegetarian?"

Sara shook her head quickly. "No, I am, but you? Will it be enough for a ravenous meat-eater such as yourself?" He nodded. "I just never figured you'd do that for me," she admitted. "I'd have thought you'd at least order another pizza, with meat maybe."

He pulled her to him again and caressed her cheek. "Well, I'm not," he told her. "I'm making an effort to change, honey."

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. "I never wanted you to change," she whispered. "I just want you to ...".

"Change?" He smiled sympathetically. "I know there's aspects of my personality that piss you off, and obviously there must be an issue with me not talking enough, otherwise you wouldn't have requested an opportunity to ask me questions." He took a breath, and Sara opened her eyes in time to see his tongue slide out and lick his lips. "There's a great many things about myself, about my personality ...".

"Honey, save it for tonight." She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his lips. "I'm gonna head off for work, okay? So I'll see you about an hour after shift." She kissed him one last time, and headed off out of his townhouse.

The knock on his door came just as he was warming the pizza in the oven. He quickly ran a towel through his hair, which hadn't dried fully from his shower, and sauntered over to the door, opening it.

_Oh, God._ Sara's heart leapt into her mouth. _He's wearing jeans again, and he's hair's not fully dry. Oh dear God, I might just jump you right here and now._ She smiled brightly and handed him the six-pack he asked her to get. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he smiled, accepting the beer. "How much do I owe you?" He ushered her in and took her coat from her, hanging it up.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, waving her hand.

"I thought we might sit at the table and eat, more comfortable, less awkward than the couch," he said, walking back into the kitchen and taking the pizza from the oven. "Take a seat," he called out to her. He brought out two plates, then went back and retrieved the pizza and beer. He doled out a slice for her, and snapped a can from the plastic wrapping, pouring it into a glass for her.

"Wow, I'm not used to having people pouring my beers for me," she joked, silently thanking him with a smile.

"Yeah, well, I have a lot to make up for," he murmured quietly. "So, what do you wanna ask me?" He picked up his pizza sice and bit into it, savouring the courgette and pepper.

"I was always interested in your childhood," she told him, taking a sip of her beer to avoid looking at him.

He swallowed, and followed suit with his drink. "It was ... quiet. My parents were divorced when I was eight, and he died a year later. My mom had started going deaf just before they got divorced - I think it was one of the reasons he left. So, with no-one else left to look after her, I kind of assumed that role."

Instead of trying to appease him with, she simply nodded. "Yeah, it kinda sucks, doesn't it."

He looked up. "What?"

"Having to assume a position of responsibility when you're young, simply 'cause the adults around you are too immature to do anything for themselves." She smiled gently, and took another bite from her pizza.

"Yeah. That's why I'm not good with people. I had to grow up real quick, so I didn't have much of a chance to develop relationships with other people. As a result, I also found it hard to open up to people, because I was afraid that the moment I became vulnerable, they'd abandon me. Like my father did."

His words inspired a mass of images collecting in her mind. Gil, as a curly-haired, blue-eyed, skinny little boy, looking after his mother, learning sign language, and crying himself to sleep at night because he had no-one to talk to or confide in. She reached over and touched his hand. "I know what it's like," she comforted him.

He looked up at her gratefully and stroked her thumb. "You had a hard time?" he asked, rather stupidly.

"Yeah. More than you know," she added.

"What else happened to you? If you wanna go into it," he added, not wanting to push her.

She took a deep breath, comforted deeply by his hand caressing hers. "Normal stuff. It was textbook domestic abuse, I guess. He drank, he had a temper, he took it out on the people around him."

"Including you?" He didn't dare to think of the answer he would get.

She looked up at him briefly, then stared back down at her half-eaten pizza, which tasted remarkably nice. "Yeah," she said in a small voice.

"How?" It came out as a croak.

"Guess."

He frowned. "I'm not much up for playing games, honey. How?" he insisted.

"All the ways in which abuse can be carried out," she said, throat tight. "I don't wanna ...".

"It's okay. Um, next question," he blurted, squeezing her hand and then letting go and finished his slice of pizza.

"What do you like most about yourself?"

Grissom smiled. "I don't know. What do _you _like most about me?"

"Everything. Even your infuriating little things that irritate me - it's all a part of what makes you you."

Sara finshed her beer, struggling for a question that she didn't want to ask.

He raised his eyebrows. "You can ask."

"Seeing as you know what I wanna ask, answer the question without me asking it."

"There's a few things you want to ask me. But here goes," he added, upon seeing her expression. "Like I said, I'm closed off and impersonal because I don't want to get hurt. I'm afraid that if I let people in, they'll abandon me."

"Why do you find it so easy to speak to me now?" Sara aksed, reaching for another pizza slice at the same time as Grissom. Their hands touched, and he smiled coyly, withdrawing so she could take a slice before him.

"I made a conscious decision that I would open up to you. You've been through so much, and you've been open with me, more open than I would have ever asked you to be, considering that you were obviously going through a shit time. And you've waited for me. You've stayed here when you could have left, and you've put up with me being a bastard, so that kinda convinced me that you're not the sort of person who's gonna walk out on me. That, and the fact that you've been through so much yourself. I think you'd find it hard to walk out, considering what you had to experience as a kid." By this time, he had stocked up on another slice and poured himself another beer. "You want another one?"

She shook her head slowly, quite overwhelmed by what he had said. "Uh, no thanks, I gotta drive."

Gil's face fell. "Oh, I thought you might want to stay."

In contrast, her face brightened considerably. "If that's okay with you, I wouldn't wanna impose myself on you," she said, smiling.

He smiled back, casting his eyes down shyly. "Having you here is _never_ an imposition," he stated.

"Well, I think I have all the answers I need."

"Isn't there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Like what? After some time, I heard you'd had ear surgery, and I figured I'd mybe come on a bit strong, so there's not much else to say."

"You don't wanna know what really happened with Lady Heather? Or how I felt about you seeing Hank?" He avoided her eyes when he spoke.

Sara swallowed, with some difficulty. "Not really, no." She changed her mind. "Actually, yes."

"I know a lot of people think I slept with her. And I did. It's not something I'm particularly proud, and a lot of how I reacted was because I couldn't cope with how jealous I felt at seeing you date Hank. I realised pretty soon after sleeping with her, that I made a mistake. So that's why I gave you that solo at the high school. I was angry, and jealous, and felt impotent."

"What was she like?" Sara asked in a small voice.

Grissom frowned and rested his chin on steepled fingers. "She was ... good. But it was clinical. And she was too dominant for my liking. I ... I didn't feel any chemistry between us. I did it because I was lonely and angry." He reached out for her hand again. "I _was_ impotent, emotionally-speaking. But I don't ever want you to think that I stopped thinking about you, or that I stopped caring or fantasising about you." His cheeks turned deep red as his words flowed.

Sara gave an interested smile. "Really."

"Uh huh. That surprise you?"

"I don't know," she conceded. "I fantasised about us, too," she admitted. "And I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. I think you're a person who'd easily get carried away with the romance, the _idea_ of a sexual encounter. But in real-life, you probably have some ideas that wouldn't sit too happily with female partners."

_Oh, she had him down. She had his number._ "What makes you say that?"

"You're an idealist, a romantic, remember?"

"So, your fantasies. What did you do?"

She smiled coyly. "Whatever you wanted me to do. I had a couple of tricks up my sleeve, but I mostly thought of what you'd do to me."

He blushed yet again. "Well, I'm sure you'll be privy to what I can do in three or four days' time," he smirked. He checked the pizza box and saw they had somehow managed to finish the whole pizza, although he had been oblivious to eating more than two slices. "Um, you wanna go watch tv for a bit?"

Sara shook her head, smiling sleepily and looking drowsy. "I'm kinda tired," she yawned.

He leaned over and kissed her - this kiss was quite unlike the others they had shared - it was full of promise and desire. "You go get ready, I'll clean up in here," he said, his breath, holding hints of tomato and garlic, passing across her lips.

"Gil?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for being open, for being forthcoming and willing to share these things with me. It ...".

"It means a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Just go and get ready, honey, I'll be with you in a few minutes."


	5. Chapter 5

Grissom stared at Sara's naked back. She was lying on her stomach, and the white bed sheets had dropped to her waist. She wasn't _naked_, but she had gotten warm during the night, and had evidently removed her bra.

They had enjoyed themselves on this date, after the rather heavy night they had previously. He had taken her on some of the rollercoasters around the casinos, showing her one or two of his favourite ones, allowing her to grow accustomed to their surroundings, and then he let her drag him to any others that caught her eye. Her enthusiasm was truly endearing, and was one of the things which had initially drawn her to him. He loved to watch her get so carried away in the heat of the moment, allow her attention to carry her off into so many different places at once. The look in her eyes, her intensity, how she looked when they climbed a hill and then dropped quickly - both features momentarily made him wonder what she'd be like in bed, but he quickly dispelled the thought; he didn't need that sort of distraction tainting their night.

Then they had gone back to her place, shared a coffee, and retired to bed. He could get used to sharing a bed with her - her body's curvature fit his almost exactly, and to feel her spoon against him in the night was almost heaven itself. _Almost. _In the night, though, she had somehow wriggled out of his rather tight grasp, and the result was the view of the rather glorious expanse of her pale back. She was still quite thin, and he could see the nobbles of her vertebrae. Her spine curved deliciously above the smooth peach that was her delectable ass. One rough hand stroked over it gently, and he bent his head, pressing a trail of kisses down her back.

"Mmm," came her pleasured, sleep-fogged groan.

The hand on her ass squeezed gently. "Hey," he whispered softly. "Sleep well?" His breath blew across the swell of her bottom, and she tensed under his ministrations.

"Yeah," came her throaty growl. She turned under him, legs opening so he could lie on top of her comfortably, bracing his forearms on either side of her.

"Uh, Griss?" Her head arched as he began to lick and kiss her neck.

"Uhhh," came his groan, vibrating against her throat.

"You're not ...". How was she supposed to tell him that he didn't have a pencil in his pocket, so to speak.

"I'm not aroused?" he gasped against her. He felt her nod. "I'm not _aiming_ to get aroused. There's no ulterior motive. I just wanna lay between your legs and kiss you. Is that okay?"

"More than okay, honey," she breathed. She lay there for a while, savouring the feel of his slightly rough tongue lapping at her neck. Well, it was more that he was drawing the lithe muscle across her skin ever so slowly, then drawing his bottom lip back up after it in a kiss. She placed a hand in his hair and massaged his scalp with her fingers.

"It's difficult not to be aroused when you start doing that," he vibrated against her skin.

She chuckled and lessened her motions, simply rubbing her fingers through his curls. "I'm sorry." She let out an involuntary gasp when he mouth left her neck. He propped himself up on his forearms and gazed into her eyes.

"I really enjoyed my evening," he said, one hand lifting to run over her cheek. "Did you?"

She smiled against his hand, and turned her head slightly, running her lips over his thumb. "I seem to be enjoying all my evenings lately," she replied. "I can't think why, though."

"Nah, got me stumped, too," he returned. His face straightened, and he touched his lips to hers. "You still wanna carry this through, right?"

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Huh?"

"You still wanna go the whole seven days of me wooing you? You don't want to rush in and ...".

She placed a finger over his lips. "Gil, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. To be honest, I don't think I want it to end. But all good things ...".

"It's not like we won't be _seeing_ each other, honey," he insisted. "I mean, we'll be together, won't we?"

"Only if you're good in bed," she joked. "Sweetheart, I know this is just a precursor to bigger things for us," she said lightly, "but I'm savouring this now. We won't have this time back once it's over, so, like I said, I want to savour these moments." She wriggled against him - he wasn't light, and his weight was pressing down on her a little too much. Taking her hint, he shifted off her partially, and let his hand slide to her waist.

"That was one thing I meant to ask you," he grumbled sleepily, his face pressed into a pillow.

"What?"

"Are you multi-orgasmic?" His head shot up when he heard her shout of laughter. "_What?"_ he protested.

"That has to be the most arbitrary thing anyone has ever asked me."

"Just answer 'the most arbitrary question' anyone has ever asked you," he said.

"No, I'm not, but that's because none of the guys I've ever been with have had the _skill_ to make me come more than once in one session. Why?"

He blushed, and his words were obscured by the pillow, and she had to ask him to repeat what he said. Looking up at her, he spoke slowly and deliberately. "There were some things I wanted do ... I want to do them all in the one session, so to speak, but I won't if you won't come more than once."

She batted her eyelids seductively, and touched the hand that lay on her waist. "Oh, I'll be able to come for _you_, certainly more than once," she growled in a low voice. Her eyes followed her hand, and she took in those large, gentle, but slightly roughened hands. "With those hands ..." she said wistfully, "that mouth," she added, running her other hand across his lips once more, "you'll definitely get my juices flowing." Grissom swallowed at her _double entendre_, but she continued. "God, I can look into those eyes of yours, your eyes alone can make me moist," came her throaty voice.

"You're, uh, you're really not helping with my self-contol thing, here," he groaned. "Save the pillow talk for three days' time. If you can say anything other than my name," he smirked, glad to see her blush.

"I guess two can play at that game," she grinned. She kissed him again. "We've got an hour before we should be getting up for work, so we should just grab as much sleep as possible."

He squeezed her hip gently and returned her grin. "Y'know, I _really_ am enjoing my evening."

"Me too, babe," she said, grasping his hand and closing her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

"The one thing I like about this place is that it's quiet," Grissom whispered as he and Sara picked their way through the body farm compound. They had been there for half an hour, and he had taken her to see two bodies that he thought might interest her, but now he was allowing her to take the lead, letting her follow her own ... instincts, so to speak. He sneaked a sideways look and noted the intensity that had been on her face the previous day. Tonight was their night off, and throughout the whole time they had been wandering about the place, he was worried that he'd get called out on a bug case.

"It sure is. But the dead talk in ways without the need for words," she countered, her tone sombre.

He shot her a curious gaze. "You okay?"

"Sort of. But your tension's coming off you in waves. What's up?"

Disconcertingly, she hadn't even looked at him when she said that. He dropped his head, then lifted it again, regarding her from the corner of his eye. "I keep thinking I'm going to get a call-out, and I don't want that to happen."

She _did_ turn to look at him this time. "You, of all people, should know that _I_, of all people, would be the one person to understand how important your work is to you. I'm not going to throw a hissy fit, I'm not going to ditch you if it happens that you get a phone call requesting your services. But let's just enjoy the time we have together."

He smiled shame-facedly, knowing full well that she was right. "It's happened to me before, that's all. I don't want you thinking that I want to go." He sighed, and Sara smiled inwardly, taking his hand.

"Tell me about it," she said softly.

"It's embarrassing."

"So? I've told you far more personal stuff."

"You know Terri Miller?"

"The anthropologist? Sure."

"I had a thing for her. I asked her out on a date, and I got page when we were at dinner. I ignored it, and told her to do the same, but then they phoned me. So I told them how to deal with the bug-covered body, and when I put the phone down, she'd left."

Sara felt a sharp pang of sadness, and related Grissom's tale to when she'd found out Hank had been cheating on his girlfriend with her. She squeezed his hand. "I kinda know the feeling," she agreed. "But don't let that blight our evening." She pulled at his arm, tugging him along after her, in search of the next body for them to study.

Another hour and half passed, and then Grissom got the call he'd been dreading. "Bugs," he winced, closing off the connection on his phone. "I'm sorry."

Sara shrugged. "Not a problem. Let me work the case with you," she stated simply, as if it were the most obvious answer.

He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna work a dirty, bug-infested case?"

"If it's with you, then yeah, sure. Plus," she winked, "if it's dirty, we'll need a shower when we get back."

Grissom grinned as they walked back to the car. "We're not even sleeping together, and you're suggesting we share a shower."

"Read into it whatever you want," she answered blandly. "I never said anything."

He held the car door open for her. "Your vocal cords may not have moved, but that wink of yours was _certainly_ trying to communicate something to me."

The case was hard. And dirty. And long. By the time they had all finished collected the evidence they needed, they reeked of decomp, and were exhausted. Grissom smelled himself and wrinkled his nose. "I think we're going to need an industrial-sized crate of lemons to get this stuff off us," he whinged.

"That must be the first time I've ever heard you complain about smell," Sara remarked, climbing into the passenger side of the Tahoe. "I've got a load of lemons back at mine," she added.

Grissom started the engine. "I'm only complaining because my natural, nice-smelling pheromones are getting clouded over by a three-week old gunshot vic," he retorted. "And before, I never had to worry about impressing a woman with my personal appearance," he added slyly.

"Your appearance _always_ made a good impression on _me_. Anyway, I smell exactly the same as you, so it doesn't really matter."

They drove along in silence for quite a while, trying hard to breathe through their mouths. Eventually (thankfully) they pulled up at Sara's apartment complex, and all but ran inside to wash the smell of death from their bodies.

"Strip off completely, and I'll put your clothes in with mine to soak in lemon concentrate while we get a shower." She saw the look on his face. "Stop acting like a teenager," she chided. "Strip off then get in the shower and wait for me. Get the water running while you're in there."

"Are you always this domineering?" he asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Only if you want me to be," came her loaded comment.

He grinned and finished divesting himself, then skulked off to the bathroom.

"Mm, I didn't know showers after decomps could be so much fun," Gil sighed as he lay with Sara in his arms. Nothing _much_ had happened, but enough _had_ taken place.

She wriggled against his chest. "And there you were, doubting me," she replied. "I can be right _some_times." He let out a deep breath. "What?"

His head turned to hers. "I was interrupted at the body farm, as you well know."

"Are you doing a post-mortem on that _again_?" she asked in exasperation. It was all he had blathered on about in the car on the way to the case. "Gil," she warned through clenched teeth. "I'm seriously gonna have to think about withdrawing all privileges until you get over this. It is not your fault that other people commit murders. It's not your fault that bugs go to the scenes of those murders. Shit, it's not even your fault that you're a brilliant entomologist. Getting call-outs comes with the territory - get. Over. It," she said pointedly.

"You mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"You think I'm a brilliant entomologist?"

"I don't think - I know. And so does everybody else in the rest of Clark County, and the rest of the state of Nevada, and most other states in this country." She lifted herself up and rested her arms on his chest, propping her chin there. "Babe, you are a foremost authority on this kind of stuff. I appreciate that, and I also appreciate the fact that I'm not the only person who requires your, uh, services." She slipped him a sly wink. "I'm cool with it, Gil," she reassured him. "You know I'd be the same."

He knew she was right, but that insecure part of him just wouldn't let up so easily - fifty years of being abandoned, by his father, and by women whom he may have had an opportunity to spend his life with ...

"Look, we spoke about this yesterday," Sara scolded him gently. "If I can stick around for six years when you're being a bastard, I don't mind having to cut a date short when you're so damn apologetic about it." She rubbed his chest. "Go to sleep before I'm tempted to kill you," she chuckled against his chest.

He pulled her closer and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

_Ring ring. Ring ring._ Sara turned over in her bed, reaching out blindly for the phone. She wondered why there was no bulky body to buffer her arm, but nothing registered. "Y'hello?" she mumbled into the phone.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," came the sweet, soft voice down the phone.

Sara's eyes fluttered open properly, and she knew why she hadn't encountered Grissom's body when she had stretched out for the phone - he wasn't there. "Honey, where are you?" she mumbled, only a slight amount of urgency rushing into her voice.

"I got a call-out again. I left a note on the pillow, but I didn't want to wake you up when I left. I just thought I'd better call you and let you know I'd gone before you started freaking out, thinking I'd run off or something."

Sara laughed slightly. "Thanks for letting me know. See you later?"

"I've got work tonight," he reminded her sadly. Sara had the night off. "Tell you what. Come over about seven, I'll cook us dinner. Give me something to look forward to."

Although she couldn't see his face, she pictured him standing by his Tahoe, out in the desert, in a shirt and his CSI vest and baseball cap, smiling. "Give _me_ something to look forward to," she echoed.

"Anyway, I've got to go, before my sentimentality arouses suspicion," he whispered, and she imagined him grinning. "So I'll see you tonight?"

"Sure thing," she replied. "Take care," she added rather wistfully.

There was something about his life changing that Gil couldn't put his finger on. He'd always quite enjoyed his job, or so he thought - after a few years, the spring in his step had dampened somewhat. He had still thrown himself into his work, knowing it was all he had. But now, these past few days, maybe even the past few months over which his relationship with Sara had re-developed, had renewed the bounce. He felt revived, refreshed; satisfied with his lot. Of course, he knew that there were plenty of issues for them to deal with, and potential problems that could arise, and definite problems that _would_ arise, but this last week - he was happy.

It was two in the afternoon when he returned from his call-out, so he slept for another two hours, and then got a shower. He recalled how pleasurable it was sharing a bathing experience with Sara, and made a note to share more often. But what had hit him hard was going to sleep in a bed without the comfort of her body, without something to hold on to. He hadn't thought he would miss the warmth of another body next to his, and had always felt rather solitary in bed, but her presence had ... he wasn't quite sure _what_ it had done to him, aside from increasing his protectiveness of her. He smiled to himself as he washed his hair, reminded of the night he lay between her legs as she massaged his scalp, and he wished her fingers were there now.

He dried himself off, dabbed a bit of cologne around his beard, and changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Although he had asked her over for dinner, he had no idea of what to cook - couscous was a possibility, but he didn't know what else he could put with it. Fish might not go with it, so what else could he do? Olives, perhaps, and maybe some pitta bread and hummus.

At half past five, his cell phone rang, and, taking a look at the caller ID, felt a simultaneous flash of joy and panic. "Sara, is everything okay?" he gushed, before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't it be?" she answered, the bewilderment clear in her voice.

"I thought you were calling to take a rain check," he confessed.

Sara's heart warmed at his submission to vulnerability, and she smiled. "No, the opposite, actually. I was going to ask, if you're free now, is it okay if I come over? I'm stuck here with nothing to do, and I'm missing you already." She winced, worried that she was coming across as too needy.

Her words relieved Grissom. "Good, 'cause I've been missing you too," came his quiet reply.

"Really?"

"Yep. I was lonely in bed before. And in the shower," he added slyly. "Come over as soon as you're ready."

He couldn't keep the smile from his face when he opened the door to her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "Hey," he greeted her. "How are you?"

"Mmm," she murmured. "Fine, thank you," she replied, losing herself in his strong hold. "You?"

He pulled away, and touched her cheek. "Much better for seeing you," he told her. He put an arm around her shoulder and led her through to the living room. "I have a proposal. Not that sort," he added, seeing her face. "Do you want to stay tonight? So you're here when I get in from work?"

Sara turned her face to look at him as they trudged to the couch. His proposal was ... interesting, to say the least. She wanted to be there when he got in, she didn't think she could bear another night of him not having his arms around her, but at the same time, she felt intimidated - she would be here, in Gil's apartment, treating it like it were hers. "Yeah," she breathed.

"Good. Just sit here, I'll be back in a minute."

She sat there, feeling like a lemming. She looked up as he came back into the room, carrying a bowl of olives and the hummus. "I'll be back in a minute with the wine and pitta bread." And he was, placing them on the table.

Sara picked out an olive. "Close your eyes and open your mouth," she instructed. She waited for him to obey, and popped the olive on to his tongue. She wasn't quick enough in removing her hand, and his mouth closed over her finger, and he sucked gently before chewing on the olive and swallowing. He opened one eye to observe her expression and grinned, pressing a kiss to her finger. Then he leaned over and selected an olive himself, slipping it between her lips. The look she shot him as she bit down was plain saucy, and he smiled back unashamedly.

"Before we start tearing each other's clothes off, we should eat," he told her softly.

The meal was simple yet filling, and when they had cleared the dishes, they sat back on the couch, happy and sated. "How was the call-out?" Sara asked, settling comfortably against his shoulder.

Grissom rested his head against hers. "Messy," he grunted. "Not pleasant at all," he added with a sigh.

She could tell that the case must have been hard for him, for whatever reason, not that she'd ask him to go into whatever it was that happened. She pulled away from his shoulder, and swung a knee over his lap, straddling him.

He smiled at her, grateful for the distraction, and rested his hands on her upper thighs. He reached up to kiss her, but was stopped by a finger on his lips. He shot her a questioning look, his eyebrow cocked.

"Garlic breath," she explained.

"I don't care," he told her, capturing her lips with his. She emitted a deep-throated groan, and his hands squeezed her thighs. "I haven't had my recommended daily allowance of you," he said against her mouth.

"Screw recommended daily allowances, I'd be overdosing on you by now," she replied, bringing her hands up to his face. "Are we just going to sit here necking like a pair of hormonal teenagers until you go to work?"

His hands tightened their grasp around her thighs, and for a moment, he seriously considered picking her up, carrying her off to his bedroom, and having his evil way with her. But he controlled himself, fully aware, at least in his eyes, that he had done nowhere near enough to be granted such a privilege. "Yeah," he gasped. "This is okay, isn't it?"

"Can't think of anything I'd rather do more," she rumbled against his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

"You know, we've got two days left," Grissom commented absently as they lay in bed. Sara had been waiting up for him with breakfast when he got in from work, and he was looking forward to returning the gesture tomorrow morning, on her day at work, when he would be off. They had both eaten, and then trudged sleepily to bed, holding each other for comfort.

Sara stirred against his side. "And then it's the big day?" she questioned rhetorically.

"Nervous at all?" he asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant. He felt her smile against him.

"A bit. You?" She moved further against him, and nudged him when he didn't reply.

"Uh ... yeah." It was hard for him to admit that a sexual encounter, _making love to Sara_, was an intimidating thing to him. He was so concerned about being able to perform for her, to be able to satisfy her, that he was in danger of scaring himself into impotency. To take his mind off their impending union, he thought hard. "May I ask you a question?"

There was something in his voice that unsettled her. "You just did, but go ahead."

He turned to face her, so that he was leaning on his side, propping his head up in his hand. His right hand draped over her left hip, and although it was dark, he could feel her eyes on him. "What was your time in the system like?" His voice was shaky and uncertain, and he doubted the sagacity of his asking her.

"You mean when I was in foster care?" That took the wind out of her a bit. She hadn't been expecting _that._ Of course, she knew that he would eventually want to know the full, sordid details of her past, but she had tried to put her stay in foster care behind her.

"Yeah," he croaked. "Um, if you don't wanna talk about it, I understand," he added quickly, hoping that she didn't feel as though he was pushing her too hard.

"No, it's okay," she answered slowly. "I'd like you to know." She took a deep breath, and the comforting hand that squeezed her hip gave her the strength to go on. "I was handled by social workers immediately after my father died," she said. "I was taken to a temporary foster home for a week, and then I was transferred to another home until the trial. After my mom was charged, my grandparents took me to live with them. Six years later, I went off to college, and I haven't been _home_ home since. I know I worked in San Francisco, but I never once went back to where I lived. I didn't even go and see my grandparents."

"Maternal or paternal?"

"Paternal. I think they resented the side they saw in me that was my mother." She smiled sadly, although he he probably wouldn't be able to see her. She heaved a sigh and continued. "They were never _horrible_ to me, but I can tell that they were kind of begrudged that I was there, they didn't really want me there, and they never complained to anyone that I never got in touch with them."

"What about your brother?"

"He was gone. He ran away a few months before my father died, and I haven't seen him since."

Gil almost felt his heart crack in his chest. It was painful for him to listen to, to know that effectively all throughout her life, Sara had had no-one. "Do you still keep in contact with your mom?"

"Occassionally. Birthday cards, Christmas cards. She moved to Oregon after she was released, and she went to live with her sister, so we don't see each other all that much. To be honest, I don't know if I care." She snorted. "That's scary, isn't it?"

"Why?"

"I don't want anything to do with my family. I wanna cut them off and pretend like all this has never happened."

Grissom pursed his lips and took a breath. "That's not necessarily scary. It's ... it's understandable. I'm not sure that if I went through what you went through, I'd feel much different. You've obviously been deeply affected by what has happened in you life, and it's only natural that you want to distance yourself from those things that hurt you."

"As well as that may be, it doesn't explain why I stayed in Vegas."

"Ah."

"Ah, what?"

"I was wondering when we'd get down to this."

She ignored the comment, knowing that he probably didn't mean it in a snide way. "I won't pull any punches, Gil," she told him. "You _have_ hurt me. Deeply, whether you wanted to or not. But I've forgiven you for that, because I know that sometimes you didn't mean it, and that I loved you for who you are, and that I ... that sometimes I wasn't very fair to you. I ... I don't know, Gil," she sighed. "You've hurt me, but I stayed here because I always thought that one day you'd see it. One day, you'd get that kick up your ass that you needed."

Grissom moved closer to her, pressing their bodies together. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt you, but, as you know, sometimes my jealousy got the better of me, although that's not something I want to readily admit to, y'know? And it's hard for me to admit to that, because I don't want to acknowledge the fact that I've hurt someone whom I care about immensely. It's not something I'm very proud of."

She touched his face, and felt a slight wetness on his cheek, but didn't comment on it. "I know," she answered. "But I think it's something we should put behind us."

"I agree," he replied, his voice almost breaking. "But I'm having such a good time with you, all I can think about is 'If only I hadn't been such a dickhead, we'd be so much fruther along than we are now.' I'm either sadistic, or masochistic," he self-flagellated.

"You're cautious," she corrected him. "You didn't do it purposely. You did it because you were afraid, and fear is a very strong emotion."

"I've overcome that," he told her sincerely. He dipped his head, and kised her slowly and tenderly. "I love you," he whispered. "And I'd do anything for you. _Anything_," he stressed.

Sara smiled against his mouth. "Why do you think I'm with you?" she teased.

"You'll find out the day after tomorrow," he growled, entirely seriously.

Sara felt a hot rush of liquid arousal between her legs, and rubbed herself against him provocatively. "I'm sure I will," came her hoarse voice.

Gil rested his forehead against hers and smiled. "I'm _positive_ you will."


	9. Chapter 9

The first time a chapter has been sent to a beta before-hand - thanks hodiestoe, for volunteering to take a look, I wasn't happy with this, but it wasn't until you'd pointed out what was wrong that I could put my finger on it. Big thanks also go to odeepblue, lisa1986 and jtbwriter, and anyone else who has reviewed.

When Sara came home from work, Grissom was standing in the kitchen, waiting for coffee to percolate. "Hey there," she said softly.

He turned, greeting her with a big smile. "Hey," he replied. "How was work?"

She gave a furtive grin. "Nick wanted to know why I'm so happy all of a sudden."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What did you say?"

She hung her jacket up and rolled up her sleeves, approaching Gil and giving him a hug. "I said I'd had my chakras realigned."

They both burst into uncontrollable giggles. "What did he have to say about that?" Grissom asked when he had managed to control himself. He poured Sara a mug of coffee, adding sugar and cream.

"He knew I was taking the piss, but he got the picture that I didn't really appreciate him knowing, so he left me to it." She took a sip of her coffee, then looked up, noting Grissom's 'questioning' face. "What?" she asked warily.

"How would you feel about people knowing about us? I'm not suggesting that we tell anyone, at least not in the very near future, but I always wanted to know how you'd feel about people knowing that we were lovers."

"Oh, I get it. You mean 'How would you feel if people found out you were dating an old guy?' Thanks."

"You said it, not me. For the record, I was always worried that people would look at me like I was old pervert, or a cradle-snatcher or somethin' like that."

Sara couldn't help laughing at his words. "You, an old pervert? Yeah, right. I've never really cared about what people might think. Fifteen years age gap is nothing."

Grissom frowned. "You know, every time I'm reminded of the age difference, I feel older." He leaned back against the counter. "If you get freshened up a bit, I thought we could go out for breakfast. That is, if you want to. We could just as easily stay here and relax."

"Going out for breakfast sounds good," she replied, patting him on the chest. "You gonna come and join me in getting freshened up?"

"So, what's going on tomorrow? What have you got planned?" Sara toyed with her fork, even though there was no food for her to attack with it.

Gil leaned forward, running a finger absently around the rim of his coffee cup. "What have I told you about surprises?" he chided. Looking up, he changed tack. "I can't really give much away, save to say that we're going to be staying at mine. I've got something to give you before work tonight, but you're not allowed to look at it until tomorrow. Go back to yours after work tomorrow morning, and call around at about seven in the evening."

Sara sighed. "That's all I'm going to get, isn't it?" she said, making an attempt at a pout. It didn't work, and she broke into a grin.

"Yup. For the time being, that is," he added slyly. "All you need to be concerned with is getting to my apartment on time and making sure you've got the thing I'm going to give you. I'm taking care of everything else." He watched her observing him closely. "You're not gonna catch me out, Sara," he grinned.

"Maybe I'm not _trying_ to catch you out. I've known you for long enough to know that you're got at keeping things hidden."

He waited until the waitress had set down their food and left them, and winced. "Ouch, that _hurt_," he commented, then sighed. "Then again, I can't say I blame you."

"What?"

"The comment about me keeping things hidden. I know I haven't ...".

Sara reached over and touched his hand. "We've gone over this," she murmured. "Once in a while, I feel slightly bitter, and can't help voicing how I feel. If you want, _you_ can make snidey comments about Hank."

Grissom frowned. "Why would I do that? Anyway, you've got much more dirt on me, why didn't you barb me with a comment about sleeping with a dominatrix?"

Sara huffed a short laugh, and smiled. "Firstly, _because_ I have so much dirt on you, I'd expect you to make at least _one_ little jibe about me, just to restore a bit of parity. Secondly, you were honest about what happened with Heather, and I thought that would be a little harsh of me to comment on that. _Thirdly_," she said, ignoring the rolling of his eyes, "sleeping with a dominatrix really had no bearing on the conversation. I could, however, ask you if want me to bring some rope, or handcuffs or something." She grinned as Gil reddened.

"Not a topic I would prefer to dwell on in a family environment, Sara. Anyway, like I said, _I'm_ taking care of everything else." He took his eyes from hers and concentrated on his food.

The corner of Sara's mouth turned up. "That mean you've got ...".

"Sara," came his warning.

"Fine, I'll eat my breakfast."

"You not talking to me?" Grissom asked as they left the diner. He reached for her hand, but could tell she was being ... not pissy, but if it was anyone else, that was what he would have said. "Have I done something?" came his slightly worried tone.

Sara turned to him, and this time managed to pull off an impressive pout. "I don't like you using that warning tone with me, Gil," she commented, mock-stern. She reached back for his hand, and he pulled her to him, kissing her thoroughly.

"Sorry," he whispered against her mouth. "But if you continue to force the subject, that's what happens."

Sara hugged him. "You and the control thing?"

He pulled away, his eyes wide in affront. "No, but I think that some issues are only suitable for more ... private surroundings. And that place certainly wasn't private."

"Oh." She nodded in understanding. _Like I don't already know that._ "I'm just teasing."

"I know," he replied, holding the passenger door open for her. "So, don't forget, go back to yours after work. And don't forget to pick up your ...?"

"Present? Instead of risking me taking a peek, why don't you keep it at yours, let me get it when I come 'round tomorrow?"

Grissom pursed his lips. "I'd rather you had it before then. Get used to it," he explained obliquely.

Sara shrugged. "Sure."

Now she understood why he wanted her to have her present before she got to his. He'd probably have jumped her before she had a chance to get used to wearing it.

She had opened the bag as she was sitting on the edge of her bath tub, waiting for it to fill up. There had been a note lying on top of whatever was in the bag. _Dear Sara_, it had read, _I hope this note finds you well. I managed to sneak a look at your more ... feminine measurements, so the things in here should fit you. I'm sure you'll look stunning in them, and even better out of them. I love you. Yours, Gil._ She reached into the bag, her hands coming into contact with something soft. She pulled the first thing out - a black, lacy bra, that was more air and space to show off than lace. After that came an equally black thong, a garter belt, and a pair of sheer black stockings. She took a deep breath as she imagined Gil imagining her wearing them.

It was a good thing the bath water was hot, because after the thoughts that had just run through her head, she would need the cleansing.


	10. Chapter 10

Big thanks to hodiestoe for beta'ing the first draft of this chapter. You helped me figure of what was wrong, and for that, I'm truly thankful.

She knocked on his door gingerly, and almost fainted with lust when it opened. He stood before her, glasses on, wearing a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, light blue tie and black trousers. "Court appearance?" she croaked weakly. He smiled and nodded. How fortuitous."

"Very," he agreed, raising an eyebrow and standing back and allowing her through. Deliberately, she brushed close past him, the static between them almost audible. "Go straight through to the bedroom," he growled. "I'll be with you in a minute. Oh, and divest yourself of any extraneous items of clothing," he added.

Grissom sighed harshly when he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching the figure sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed watching him. She sat there, pouting and smouldering in her lingerie, the stockings accentuating her long legs.

"You wore your court attire on purpose, didn't you?" she accused, eyes narrow in humour.

He approached her slowly, and shrugged. "I just wanted to do to you what you do to me," he said softly. Sara stood and met him halfway between the bed and the door, and she melted into his big hands. They kissed slowly, shyly at first, and then Gil felt her tongue slide across his bottom lip, and he opened up fully, allowing his tongue to converse with hers. She groaned gently, and he guided her back towards the bed. He pulled away from her demanding mouth, and took a breath. "Protection is handled, I got a box of condoms today, and put three of them under the pillow. You ready for this tonight?" he asked seriously. She nodded. "Good. Let's just take our time, get used to each other. Okay?" Again, she nodded, and grasped his tie, pulling him on top of her. Slowly, he lowered himself down on her, arms braced on either side of her shoulders. One hand slid up from her waist to graze her bra-clad breast, and he could feel her react under his touch. He smiled tenderly, and tweaked her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He kissed her again, and the hand on her chest slid down to between her things, touching the flesh between the garter belt and stocking.

She bucked under him, and sighed. "Sorry," she breathed. "Just a bit jumpy."

Grissom leaned back and looked at her. "That's what this is for," he said, brushing it aside. His index and middle fingers crept up slowly, to the waistband of her thong, and pulled it down, trembling a bit. Sara took his hand, forcing him to look at her.

"You okay?"

Grissom exhaled through his lips. "Yeah. Feeling a bit nervous, that's all." He controlled his shaking fingers and finished pulling down the thong, slipping one, then the other finger inside her. She sighed audibly, and writhed against him, then felt her cheek being touched by his other hand. "Don't close your eyes, please?" he asked uncertainly. Her eyelids fluttered, exposing her to his blue gaze. He began to kiss her, the press of lips matching the thrust of his fingers, and it wasn't long before it was too much for her to be able to hold in.

"Is ... this why ... you wanted to know ...?" She couldn't finish her sentence, as it coincided with her climax, but he pre-empted her.

"If you were multi-orgasmic? Yeah," he gasped.

She released the grip on his shirt and slumped back against the pillows. "My turn," she said, struggling for air. Oxygenated once more, she sat up, pushing Gil on to his knees. She kissed him slowly, discarding his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing the cotton over his broad shoulders. He shivered under her touch, her fingers exploring his surprisingly firm muscles. She trailed her hands over his pecs, allowing them to settle on his zipper, and she smiled briefly upon seeing him swallow, with great difficulty.

Gil was no stranger to receiving this sort of act, but the way her mouth and tongue danced over him and his most intimate body parts, he forced himself to be less clinical. This wasn't a blowjob. This was the most exquisite suction he'd ever experienced. He tried to hold off from coming, thinking it would be rude, but she pulled away, squeezing his thigh.

"You okay? How come you're not ...?"

He winced, and stammered an explanation to her. "I-I-I-It would be rude of me."

She dipped her head and let out a gusty laugh. which blew across him. "But it's not rude of me? Come on, _I _don't mind." She continued her ministrations, sighing happily as he finally allowed himself to come.

An hour later, and they had more than relaxed. Now they were becoming accustomed to each other's touch, laying and stroking and fondling and kissing each other. Sara still had on the lingerie, and Gil was just in his boxers now. He kissed his way down her body, one hand deftly undoing the clasp on her bra, and he suckled her breasts, his beard tickling the sensitive skin.

"Mmm," she groaned.

"Mmm, indeed," he replied. "Do you like your lingerie?" he asked, his voice vibrating against her.

"Yeah," she gulped as she felt his lips and tongue trail down her stomach. Tenderly, he slipped his fingers, again, under the waistband of the thong, and pulled it along her hips, one hand and his tongue taking up position. She, once again, writhed against him, grinding on his mouth. "Oh, God, Gil," she muttered as she felt his tongue probe and his thumb rub against her.

He rumbled, sending beautiful sensations through her body. She arched against him, and his hands held her hips in place. "You're very hypersensitive," he gasped in wonder and reverence as his tongue darted in and out.

"Oh, God, I-I-I think I'm c-coming," she moaned as she felt herself gush. She had an urge to scream out loud and did so, filling Grissom with a sense of achievement. He licked her clean, and then crawled his way up her body. He propped himself up on his forearms and smiled down on Sara. "You okay, honey?"

"Well," she considered, "I thought I'd had an orgasm before I met you, but _that_ was something else. Twice. Secondly, it's the first time I've had the pleasure of having you pleasure me, and vice versa. And I've discovered that you make me multi-orgasmic. And you haven't even _entered_ me properly. I'm _great._" She caressed his bearded cheeks, and pulled him down for a kiss. "You ready?" she asked.

He nodded, and reached under the pillow for one of the condoms they had stashed within easy access for all eventualities. He handed her the foil, and avoided her gaze, blushing slightly. "Would you?" he asked tenderly. He rolled his boxers down, and exposed an erection even more impressive than the one she had seen an hour previous. He was _well­­-_hung, and for a moment, she was worried he might be too big for her.

The way he asked her almost broke his heart, and for a second, she saw Gil Grissom as he would have been when he lost his virginity - not strong, or confident between her legs, but unsure, shy, nervous - he wanted to do the right thing, the thing that would result in an explosive orgasm for both of them. She smiled warmly at him, stroking his cheek one last time, and took the foil package from him, their fingers brushing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swallow as she unwrapped the condom and slipped it over him. He groaned softly, and grabbed her wrist, pushing her hand back to his straining erection.

"Guide me in slowly," he instructed her. "I-I d-don't want to hurt you, I don't know if I'm too b-big," he stammered. He felt his latexed head press through her opening, and she shuddered beneath him as her hand guided him in slowly.

"Oooohhhhh," she moaned as he entered her fully. "So big," she whispered.

"Say the word and I'll pull out," he whispered in her ear.

"I'm fine, honey," she gasped, closing her eyes and grasping his back. "Oh, that feels _good_," she murmured.

He began moving in her slowly, tenderly, awaiting any sign that he was hurting her. He held her hips for a while, making sure that she would maintain their pace. When he was confident she could keep the pace, he removed his hands and cupped her cheek. "Open your eyes, honey," he pleaded again.

Her eyelids flickered, and kept his gaze in place. They kissed on and off, just moving against each other, their bodies providing a delicious friction. Then her legs tightened around him, and her eyes widened. "Harder," she whispered, and he nodded imperceptably. He jerked against her irregularly, trying to speed up the pace, but also trying to prevent an early orgasm. But she pulled him down further on her, and he writhed between her legs. She bit her lip, and then her mouth opened, and her eyes closed. "Oh God," she yelled.

Gil grunted and came in a spasm, collapsing on top of her. "Oh my God, Sara," he gasped, his chest heaving. Noting that he was probably crushing her, he lifted himself up gently and rolled off her, removing his latex sheath and tying a knot in it, dropping it on his bedside table. He turned back to her and pulled her into his arms. "You okay?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Better than okay," she confirmed. "You?"

"Mmmm," he groaned in agreement. "Love you," he added.

"Love you too."

"You hungry?"

"My appetite's sated," she replied, grinning against his chest.

"That's not what I meant." His hand ran up and down her spine, shaking uncontrollably with nerves.

"I know, I know. I'm tired, I just wanna sleep."

When Grissom woke up, there was no body lying next to him - where Sara should have been, there was a vaguely cool space. Swinging his feet gingerly over the side of the bed, he reached for his boxers, and pulled them on.

When he opened the bedroom door, he could see Sara huddled up on the couch, wearing a robe - his robe. "Is everything okay?" he whispered, unwilling to disturb her.

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly red. "Yeah," she sighed.

He padded over to the couch, and sat down next to her, reaching over for her hand. "Did I hurt you?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "God, no. I ... memories, and stuff, you know?"

"Your father?" She nodded, and he pulled her up. "You wanna talk about it?"

She put her arms around him and held him tight. "No."

"Come back to bed and let me hold you, before you catch your death." He led to her back to his bedroom, wrapping her in his arms. "I love you, Sara."

"I know. Thank you."

"For what?" He buried his head in her hair.

"For making love to me. For being willing to give this a chance. For making me happy," she murmured against his chest.

"You're welcome. I guess I should thank you for the same thing. You know somethin'?"

"What?"

"This isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I think we've gotten over the hard part."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Gil, but I guess you're right in that _this _wasn't as hard as it could have been." She tightened her arms around him.

"You sure you don't wanna talk?" he asked.

"Positive, Gil. Just hold me, and I'll be fine."

"You got it honey."

THE END.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, including my ever-faithful - odeepblue, lisa1986 and jtbwriter. Also to hodiestoe, for confirming what I believed in the first place, especially for the last two chapters. You guys rock!


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